Nick's Names
by Evil-Ekat
Summary: Breakfast for two quickly becomes breakfast for the many people who break into Edgeworth's house at eight in the morning.


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"Goo' 'ornin'."

"'Ornin'."

It was the only sound either could make, with their faces squashed against the pillows. Neither of them got up, but Phoenix stretched his legs- only for them to come into contact with Pess at the foot of the bed. He could see the shining daylight from behind his eyelids, but chose to disregard it, in favour of snuggling deeper under the covers.

"Are you in court today?"

Breath tickled along his collarbone, the warmth of it difficult to ignore.

"No, are you?"

"No."

The security of the duvet was welcoming. It wrapped him up in his own pleasant little world. Phoenix could tell falling back to sleep was a losing battle. But the comforting smell of the room, of him... It circled all around, lulling him into a subdued trance. Phoenix calmly went over what he knew, what he could think of off the top of his head. His first thought was the obvious response to why he was in someone else's bed. The second made his heart skip a beat. If he was here, then where was Trucy? The reassuring answer came not a second later. Kurain sleepover. It was the first week of summer, and that meant no school. No school meant visiting Pearls and Auntie Maya for a few days. So long as Trucy was safe and he was with someone he trusted, then things were probably fine. At least, they were fine enough for him to lay in a bit longer.

Miles had other ideas on the brain, already turning onto his back. Phoenix chose to lean his head against his stomach, before he could try going anywhere else. This meant exposure to daylight, and he cringed as he opened his eyes.

"I've been thinking," Phoenix began, stalling for time.

"Mhm?"

"We should give each other nicknames."

"You already have one."

"Well if you started calling me Nick it would be weird. Maya and Pearls call me Nick. Larry calls me Nick. Do you want to start screaming out, "NIIICK" like he does in bed?"

"I do _not_ yell," he fiercely said.

"Which is why it would be really weird if you started impersonating him."

The blush drained from his face, and he chuckled. When he tried to sit up, but Phoenix stretched an arm across his torso.

"I need to scrub my brain of the mental image," he said, gently pushing away.

"You also need a nickname. Either something sappy, or dignified enough to match you."

"I'll take the latter please."

"Kilometers?"

"Picking the largest word you can associate with my name is not sophisticated."

"How about Mi? Mine? My love? What if it was in a different language ma petit barbet?"

"Did..." Miles squinted at him. Whether it was out of confusion or not, Phoenix still reached for the glasses on the nightstand. "Did you just call me a Little Beard?"

"Well you've got a little beard now," he replied, bringing a finger to touch the stubble against his jaw.

"I'm about to fix that."

"My Intelligent and Loving Edgeworth?"

"An acronym? Tacky. And you forgot the S."

"My Intelligent and Loving Edgeworthsss?"

He got out of bed.

"Fine then Edgey-Poo-"

The blankets were torn off him for that remark. As Phoenix reluctantly rolled out of bed, he called after the man, "you still have to think of one for me!"

"I'll do it in the shower."

Phoenix didn't actually remember where his clothes had gone, so he chose to skip showering in favour of looking for them. His socks were at the end of the bed, peeled off some time during the night. His pants were in the threshold of the door, and he slipped them on before doing anything else. He traced the remainders back to the couch, where blazers and belts had first been left.

The remainders of their dinner were still left out. There was also a case file, its pages scattered. They had been going over it, their notes were still open. He put them into an organized pile, for when they were ready to start working on it again.

Now then, what would they want for breakfast? If they weren't in court today, that meant they could have a quiet, relaxed meal. As he stacked the coasters into their proper position, he speculated on what to cook. Eggs had a certain appeal, but he had to see what was available first. Maybe toast on the side, or those nice bagels he had taken to purchasing recently. They would also need some fruit, that was essential...

From the kitchen, Pess gave an angry "woof." She was hungry too. Phoenix grabbed the plates, and took them with him to the room. Pess waited expectantly at her bowl. In a trick she could only have learned from her master, she glared at him.

"You're first," he murmured aloud, stooping over to ruffle her fur.

The bag of kibble was kept under the sink, and her wet food was in the fridge. He filled the dish, bits of kibble clinking loudly. Then he turned to reach for the can of dog food. It was due to this he did not notice there was a woman climbing through the window until she screamed and grabbed a butcher knife. Phoenix screamed as well. He jumped away from her, but not before the knife could slash across his chest. The buttons were severed, and the entire thing fell off him in shreds.

"What are you doing in Mr. Edgeworth's house?!"

"Me?! What are you doing breaking into his house?!"

She grabbed the next-largest cleaver from the knife block, and brandished it at him too. It may have been meant for slicing bread, but that didn't make it any less of a sharp object. There was a fierce look in her eyes, it reminded him of Maya when she was on a mission. He dropped the can opener before she took that as a sign to fight.

"You broke in first!"

"I didn't break in!"

"What did you do to him?!"

"I didn't do anything!" Phoenix repeated, raising his arms in surrender.

"Pess, sic 'em! Sic 'em Pess! Go get him! Defend Mister Edgeworth's home!"

Pess looked between them, debating the command for a moment. Then, she returned to her dishes. At the reaction, she relaxed somewhat. Pess was a former police dog, and more than capable of attacking him because of it. She recognized intruders easily enough, and clearly indicated that neither of them were.

"Well, Pess seems to think you're trustworthy."

Phoenix sighed, glad the misunderstanding was finished.

"But you still should answer some skill-testing questions! Say something only someone Edgeworth would let into his house would know!"

"He loves the Steel Samurai."

She narrowed her dark, glittering eyes.

"How _much_ does he love the Steel Samurai?"

 _"Enough to buy underwear themed after the show,"_ he wanted to say.

Seeing as the aforementioned were currently sitting in the hall, he felt that wasn't a useful bit of information.

"He spends a minimum of ten minutes debating what piece of merchandise he should have Will Powers autograph each time they meet, since it would be uncouth to ask for multiple signatures at once."

"Maybe you just read his diary."

"The only problem with that theory is he doesn't keep one to begin with."

Finally, she put away the knives.

"You pass," she said, sounding almost disappointed she did not get to attack him again. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."

He finally gave Pess her food, and she dug in with gusto. Now to figure out what they were going to have. Two tomatoes sat in the fruit bowl, and he had uncovered some chives while going through the fridge. There was also a block of swiss cheese he could work with...

"I'm Phoenix Wright," he simply said, reaching for the large cutting board.

But the introduction wasn't sufficient. She still stared at him blankly, and tilted her head.

"Attorney. Also known as Nick, the Turnabout Terror, Pointy Lawyer Guy..." Yet none of what he said seemed to ring a bell. Strange, she must not be that close to Miles if she didn't recognize the names. "Who are you? Franziska von Karma's new knife-wielding protégé?"

She laughed, but was not denying the idea.

 _"I knew she liked threatening me a little too much!"_ Phoenix thought to himself.

He half-expected her to pull a whip at any second. Instead, she stuck out a gloved hand.

"Kay Faraday. Mister Edgeworth is my protégé in the art of thievery!"

 _"In the same way Maya was the one who pulled the strings at the office?"_ Phoenix wondered. Well, if they were that familiar, then it was weird she didn't know who he was. Nevertheless he shook her hand. "You want any breakfast?"

"Some toast'd be great!"

He turned on the element, heating the frying pan. Kay made herself comfortable at the table, sitting in the patch of orange sunlight. It reflected off her glossy hair, and the golden key which kept the updo in place.

"Are you a prosecutor?" Phoenix asked.

"Didn't I already introduce myself? I'm the Great Thief!"

Being threatened with skill-testing questions had really woken him up. He could distinctly recall Miles mentioning a thief being one of his better investigation partners. Even prosecutors had trouble gaining access to evidence.

 _"Maybe she steals updated autopsy reports for him,"_ he idly thought.

Phoenix dropped a pat of butter into the frying pan, and then turned to leave. Those Steel Samurai underwear were still laying there. He needed to put them in the wash before Kay happened across them.

Another load of laundry was just about full. A quick glance at the clock showed it wasn't quite peak time, so he would not get in trouble for starting it. The scent of detergent washed over him as he uncapped the bottle. A cup of the syrupy, green substance was poured in with the clothes. It was only part of what made up the distinct smell best described as _him._

It was as he went to leave the room that he heard the strangest of sounds.

 _Ffft!_

 _ **THWACK!**_

Then the pain started. It was a searing line, a poker being pressed between his shoulder blades with intense strength. Phoenix yelped, straightening his back and reaching for the spot where he had been stricken.

"MISTER EDGEWORTH THERE'S A SHIRTLESS RUFFIAN IN YOUR HOUSE!"

"N-no, I'm not-!"

Another young person was present. How had the uniformed boy gotten into the place? And, was that a _baton_ in his gloved hands? As it lashed out at him again, he confirmed the observation. That was definitely a conductor's baton, and it was no easier to dodge than a whip or two knives.

"Drop your weapon!"

"I don't have a weapon!"

Heat was radiating from the spot, Phoenix could almost see the scarlet line against his skin, and feel the welling drips of blood.

"Don't play games with me!"

He tapped the baton against his palm. Phoenix watched every minute glitter of silver with dread, just waiting to be struck again.

"I don't-"

"I can see it on your head! What is that, a bomb? _A mace?_ _ **A morning star?!"**_

With each question, Phoenix could swear the likelihood of death increased. Not that he possessed enough self-preservation to avoid aggravating his attacker.

"That's my hair!"

"Huh?" His intimidating demeanor instantly crumbled. "That's really your hair? Sorry about that."

Phoenix pointedly stared at the curled ahoge of his own.

"I'm Phoenix Wright."

"Sebastian," he introduced, showing no more recognition than Kay. "Sebastian Debeste, ace prosecutor, and currently under the tutelage of Mister Edgeworth!"

Phoenix was now convinced that Franziska had created an army of young prosecutors to get her revenge on him.

"And the Yatagarasu!" Kay called out.

"Kay, you're here too?"

"You want some breakfast? Mister Nick is cooking for us!"

"Oh, ok!"

Absently rubbing the sore spot on his back, Phoenix returned to the stove. The butter now sizzled, yellow flecks of fat splattering across the surface of the pan. He pushed it around with the spatula until the surface was coated, and reached for the first egg. As he was rinsing the chives, Phoenix turned to the two intruders.

"So, you're both Miles' co-workers?"

Kay wrinkled her nose at the description.

 _"Mmm,_ kinda'? That sort of sounds unnecessarily formal."

"I mean, Kay isn't employed by the state, and I'm _technicolour-_ technically back at school..." Sebastian continued.

What a strange word to mix up with another.

"How do you know him?" Kay asked.

Instantly, his heart leapt into his throat. It seemed with every day that passed, the story grew more complicated. He meant so many different things to him, that the bare bones couldn't start to explain what he felt. But, the beginning was always the best place to commence. He had the time, he was just preparing omelets after all.

"W-well, it's a bit of a story," Phoenix cleared his throat, getting rid of the hesitancy he felt. "Before he went to Germany, and then came back here, and then was taken to Germany, and then he lived here, he and I were in the same fourth grade class. And someone- who we later found out was Larry Butz- of course, we didn't discover that until years later when he had returned from Europe-"

"Hey Kay?" Sebastian asked out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think this guy is all there mentally? He smells a bit like grape juice, and-"

"Well if he's friends with Larry Butz..."

As he took out a butter knife, they tensed. Phoenix rolled his eyes, but otherwise did not acknowledge their obvious comments.

"He saved me from condemnation. His own passion, derived from his father's, inspired me to be the person I am today. Without his guidance, I never could have returned the favour."

Phoenix paused, he dramatically rose the loaf of bread to the ceiling with one arm, and switched on the kettle with the other.

"He might be a stalker."

"You think?"

"He answered the skill-testing questions correctly. Even Oldbag couldn't do that."

"W-we should probably make sure Mister Edgeworth isn't tied up in the laundry room or something."

"Yeah, look at the scratches on his back. And I mean, what are those marks on his neck? They're probably defensive wounds he sustained from locking away Mister Edgeworth!"

Alright, being judged for knowing Larry and compared to the late Wendy Oldbag was one thing. But holding him hostage, really?

Also, were there really marks on his neck? He brushed a finger against the spot as he questioned it. More pain sprung from this, or perhaps, he was never aware that his neck was throbbing with a pulse of its own that filled him with agony. Well if that was the case, he could certainly feel the sensitive spots now.

"He's in the shower," Phoenix huffed, aggressively flipping the egg. "You can hear him singing. Listen."

Sure enough, the moment they stopped talking, strains of the Steel Samurai's theme song floated through the air. At least they had the decency to look sheepish, as he poured them both a steaming cup of tea. But didn't make him feel any better. If these two knew Miles so well, and were _that_ concerned for his health, then why didn't they know him? It wasn't any fault of theirs, even if they did have atrocious listening skills. It meant that Miles had not brought him up. Not as a friend, nor a partner... Not even an annoyance in the courtroom!

 _"He's a private person,"_ Phoenix tried to tell himself. _"Why would he want to talk about relationships with two teenagers?"_

But then, at the very least he would have thought Miles would have complained about his bluffing or story-telling. A small thing, an aspect that they could recognize...

He was out of paper towel. That meant another trip to the utilities in order to get more. Phoenix glared at the next omelet, just daring it to think about burning on him. It crackled, yellow, bubbling egg and gooey cheese melting together. He dropped a few cubes of tomato in as well before leaving. The paper towel was kept on the top shelf, it was always there for some unfathomable reason. Miles couldn't even reach it without his help, so he didn't know how it got up there to begin with. Phoenix snorted, and shook his head.

And that was when he felt the cold muzzle of a gun press into the back of his neck.

"Don't move," a low voice growled.

"I-I can explain! I'm Phoenix Wright and-"

"Tell it to the judge Little Bird," he snarled. "Now what have you done with Prosecutor Edgeworth?"

"He's in the shower! You can-"

"Check? And risk you slipping away? I don't-" his arms were wrenched behind his back and pinned down. "-think so."

"Hey Mister Nick I think my toast is getting a little overdone!"

"You have a right to remain-"

"Mister Nick, my toast!"

There was a jingle of metal. Handcuffs were clipped in place, but the man did not loosen his grip any.

"Please, we're students, we don't know how to cook!"

Footsteps sounded, coming towards the room. Had his face not been forced against the wall, he would have sighed in relief

"THE TOAST IS- oh, Agent Lang what're you doing here?"

"I've got some business with Edgeworth. Anyway, do you know this punk?" Phoenix was swung around to face the girl. "He's got some sorta' birdy name, it fits the whole Yatagarasu motif."

"Oh, yeah, he's good. Now uncuff him! This is a matter of loaf and death!"

A metallic "click" and then his arms were free. Phoenix winced, rubbing the sharp pain which wrapped around his wrists. When he saw how large the man who had arrested him was, it came as no surprise. The golden dragons which snaked down his arms and the pointy hair stirred up memories of a similar, bizarre murder culprit. Phoenix supposed he was lucky the man had refrained from shooting him and asking questions later.

They returned to the kitchen, and Lang went over to greet Pess.

"The toast isn't even that bad," Phoenix said, inspecting its sides. "Just scrape off the burnt bits."

"Scrape? The entire thing would be gone at that rate!"

With a sigh, he shook his head.

"I'll take it."

"Pess says you should cook some bacon," Lang gruffly said.

"Don't you mean Lang Zi?" Sebastian asked.

"Him too."

Soon enough, the room was filled with the smell of frying bacon. Out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix could see that Lang- was he really a police officer?- was practically drooling.

Just then, the front door opened. The first person to _not_ break and enter stepped inside. She looked to be his age. She carried a gavel in one hand, while she ushered a teenaged boy in with the other.

"I just need to drop off a few reference books John. But be polite if Prosecutor Edgeworth-" her eyes came to settle upon everyone in the kitchen. "Oh."

"I'm Phoenix Wright."

"I've heard the name before. Were you not once an attorney?"

"I passed the bar again, actually," he replied, pretending he could not hear the suspicion laced in her words. "How do you take your eggs?"

Great, just another person- close enough to have a key to the house- who didn't know anything about him. Because apparently their relationship was either insignificant or something to be ashamed of maybe? He did his best to not glare at the table full of people. People who all knew each other, and were now laughing, catching up and eating what was supposed to be a small breakfast for two.

"Hey, I recognize you," said the fedora-clad man, who had just slipped through the sliding door.

"Do you?" Phoenix asked, as he handed John a glass of milk.

"Yeah, you're that Trite guy who's been stealing away all my business!"

"I've been told that before."

"Sorry, Uncle Ray's eyes aren't what they used to be you know, but I _do_ recognize you! You're the pianist from the Borscht Bowl"

With each new character entering stage left, he could feel the hospitality he showed them become more forced. It was less natural than when he had first offered a girl breakfast because she reminded him of Maya. Now it was more rehearsed to hold up a mug and neutrally respond, "coffee, or tea?"

"Coffee please," he said, eyes already straying from their conversation. "Justine, hey! Long time no see! How about a hug to commemorate the moment?"

The worst part of it was that he had heard anecdotes about everyone at the table. The "former employee of my father," was the man who had most recently invited himself in. "The only competent judge I've ever met" was putting slices of apple on her son's plate. "An Interpol Agent" was sitting under the table with Pess, and they were sharing the bacon. He was able to place some basics about these people he had never met. Yet collectively, all they knew about him was outdated information...

Was their relationship purely physical, and he had missed that distinction somewhere along the way? Did he want it kept secret, because he was embarrassed to be associated with him? He must have overestimated his feelings somewhere along the way, it was his own fault for thinking otherwise.

The only person who could answer his numerous questions shuffled into the room, in little more than a bathrobe and Steel Samurai slippers. He was stretching as he did so. It was almost comical how he paused mid-yawn, to stare at the intruders in his house. He blinked owlishly, then, when that didn't work, squinted.

"Your glasses are on your head," Phoenix quietly said.

He adjusted them, and even then seemed at a loss for words.

"What are you doing in my house?"

Six explanations were all given at once.

"Case file-"

"I left my phone charger-"

"Here for the dog-"

None of it was intelligible, and Miles turned to him. He likely was about to ask for an answer, but it came out as a strangled, horrified sound.

"What happened to you?"

His fingers first traced the lines on his wrists, from the handcuffs. Then, he spotted the shallow gash on the front of his chest, the growing welt from the baton on his back. Any doubts Phoenix had were instantly swept away when he saw the concern on his face.

"Wright," he began.

Eyes flicked between his small injuries, filled with worry. Then they directed with frigid anger to the people at the table.

"Don't worry about that! It's not like I was shot-"

"You were held at gunpoint, and then you made them breakfast?!"

"I'd sooner clean out your fridge than my bank account."

"That's not what I'm mad about Wright! They should- you all should know better!"

They all stared back with mixtures of confusion and guilt.

"Phoe-nix Wri-gh-t," he slowly pronounced for them. "Destroyed the perfect record of my mentor, Franziska, and myself? Constantly bluffing? Goodness, it's not as if I've never mentioned that man before!"

Something seemed to click amongst them with his final statement

"Honestly," he huffed. "Reintroduce yourselves properly while I get the first aid kit."

They were left in an awkward silence as he stormed off.

"Um, hi."

It was Kay who spoke up first.

"Let me get this straight: are you That Man?"

"I'm who?"

"You, you know," she continued. "THAT MAN?"

"Uh-"

"Hasn't Miles ever said something like, 'it was That Man who showed me the right path?'" Ray asked him. "Maybe, 'when I was lost in despair, That Man reached out to me, he saved me?'"

"What?"

"He has to be, Mister Edgeworth just said he defeated Von Karma in court!"

"Wait, you're telling me _that_ guy is who he's always going on about?"

"Did you really get tazed with over a kazillion volts and then walk it off? That's _sooo_ metal!"

He was pushed into a chair by Miles. It was actually a relief to sit down, he did not notice how tired his legs were until he was resting. The cold sting of disinfectant ran along his back and across his chest.

"Tells us about the time you took on a whale as a client!"

A silly grin was threatening to form when bandages and a quick peck on the lips were administered.

"I heard you're super good at poker!"

As they came to an understanding, Phoenix had a revelation of his own. Miles did talk about him, a lot.

"Didn't you confront a known member of a mob family? Twice?"

Maybe even a bit too much. The problem was in how Miles referred to him.

Because he had always used a nickname.

 _ **Fin**_


End file.
